


Comfort and Joy

by winchysteria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Party, Djinni & Genies, Fluff and Angst, Ghost Dean, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchysteria/pseuds/winchysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> <em>The stars were as calming as they'd always been. Underneath them, he felt his hands and feet turn cold, and the backs of his legs and his ribcage where they pressed into the snow. "What is it like?" he asked. "Dying."</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>Dean made a small sound in the back of his throat; maybe a laugh, maybe a whimper. "You know, for all the times I've seen it happen, I don't know." </em></p><p> </p><p>In which Castiel is going to die- but not before Dean gives him the four things he wants most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Joy

**Author's Note:**

> A Destiel Secret Santa gift for [Hallie](http://michaels-little-angel.tumblr.com/)\- she liked AUs, fluff and angst, Christmas dinners, and a little bit of Gabriel and Balthazar on the side. Somehow that turned into this.
> 
> [Here I am on tumblr!](http://winchysteria.tumblr.com/)   
> 

Castiel knew he was done for before it even materialized. The lamp- his brothers would think that was hilarious, an old dingy table lamp, the poetic irony- gave his fingers a burnt-hair zing as they brushed across it, and his stomach dropped to his feet. While he was taking out the trash. The smallest, stupidest thing. Like opening an envelope full of anthrax. He felt his joints freeze up, as they knew his muscles would want to give out, and he closed his eyes briefly, stabilizing himself with a hand on the dumpster.

By the time he opened his eyes again, it was there. A man, and a big one. Handsome, if Castiel had been in any kind of mood to think about that. "You look like you already know the drill," it said, hands in the pockets of its canvas jacket. It- or he, Castiel supposed- looked disconcertingly ashamed of himself.

"That I'm going to die, you mean?" Castiel said.

The djinni broke eye contact, cleared his throat. Castiel got a small and petty satisfaction from his discomfort. "Yeah, okay. What else?"

"I'm a tenured professor in the Occult Studies department at Yale." Castiel picked up the lamp, turned it over in his hands. "I've spent well over a decade learning about this- a decade I might have spent differently, had I known I was going to die before I hit thirty-five."

The djinni braved eye contact again. "Look, man, just tell me how much of the spiel I can skip."

The cold that had settled in Castiel's gut was working its way around to numbness. He felt displaced, about half an inch outside of his body and half a second back in time. "What happens with you?" he asked. "What do I get before I go?"

"Four comforts. Got a pretty good range, but you know what the limits are like."

Four was- exceptional. Four could get him a month? Six weeks, maybe? To Christmas, he supposed.

He threw the lamp to the pavement with as much force as he could muster. Pieces skidded halfway down the alley.

* * *

"Does it hurt yet?"

Castiel jumped involuntarily. He'd lived in that house alone for so long that he couldn't get used to company, especially a djinni that didn't have to make a sound when he walked. The thing stood in the door to Castiel's laundry room, arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe with one shoulder as if he was material enough to collide with the wood.

"I don't know what you were like when you were a person-" Castiel moved a load from the washer to the dryer- "but I'm sure you also would have had trouble deciding what you wanted your last acts to be."

He looked behind him to see the djinni wearing a dazzling but empty smile. "No trouble at all, actually," he replied.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "What _did_ you want badly enough to be bound for it?"

"Wanted someone dead," the djinni said, running a hand through his hair as it glinted gold in the sunlight from the window.

That almost threw Castiel for a loop. He hadn't expected something so base from the djinni, though he didn't know why. "Well, we're different in that way then. And I-" he slammed the dryer door shut- "will take as much time as I need to decide on the right comforts."

* * *

It ended up taking five days. The pain was bearable in his stomach, but with every inch it grew, his resolve wore down. It had reached his shoulders by the time he placed the order for his first comfort, and he had started to lose muscle control in his arms to the point of being unable to grip a bag or a pencil.

As soon as he voiced his desire, the pain had disappeared. After days with it, the rest for his nerve endings feel a little shaky. He heard the djinni ask if Castiel was sure as if he was shouting from a hundred yards away, and he had numbly nodded yes as he sank into a kitchen chair.

The djinni followed just behind as Castiel walked into the Dr. Mills' office. She was the department chair for a reason- a brilliant and level-headed double-doctorate- and one of his closest friends, so Castiel wasn't surprised when she knew.

"What's the death sentence, Cas?" she asked as soon as he was done explaining his grant.

It took a moment for him to meet her steady gaze. Probably, he had subconsciously come to Jody to say a last goodbye- she was practically his next of kin, after all. "Djinni," he replied, feeling it shift behind his right shoulder.

She nodded tightly. "I assume it's here?"

Castiel nodded, then voiced permission for him to manifest. Jody took a long look at the djinni, half hurt and half empirical, as he stepped forward to stand beside Castiel. "What's your name?" she asked, with a gentleness that surprised both of them.

"Dean," the djinn said. "Winchester."

Castiel supposed there was a reason he hadn't asked his name. Maybe not knowing his name made it easier to think of this situation as an experiment, something outside of himself. Maybe the anger was easier to hold onto when the djinni was something anonymous and immaterial. Maybe he'd suspected what he was sure of now- that he wouldn't forget the name Dean Winchester for as long as he lived.

The room was quiet enough to hear the rustlings of Jody's more supernatural books responding to Dean's presence. After a moment or two, she spoke again. "He's young, isn't he?"

Still a little bit dumbstruck, Castiel nodded. "My best guess is twelve years at most, nine at least."

"Ten," the djinni- Dean- interjected. "Bound in '04."

Jody kept examining him, gaze keen. "And you were, what, thirty?"

Casting his eyes around the office, as if he was uncomfortable with being looked at, Dean nodded. "Thirty-two."

The fluorescent lights wavered as Jody fought to stay composed. When she met Castiel's eyes again, she looked haunted. "How long do you have?"

"Four comforts, with this djinni. This was the first; my best estimate is until the end of December."

She choked back a sob, covered her mouth with one hand. Castiel couldn't watch, glanced at Dean instead to give her a moment. The djinni was staring down at his hands. He had a very expressive face, Castiel had noticed, especially for a bound spirit that was constantly ending one life or another, and though otherwise impassive, Dean apparently couldn't stop his eyes welling up.

Jody called the students one after another, urged them all to come in as soon as they could. At her suggestion, Castiel sat in her waiting room, playing casual. Dean, invisible once more to everyone but Castiel, was back to a blasé humor that seemed increasingly to be his default setting. He peered over Castiel's shoulder at his tablet, criticized his choice of reading material, said aloud the phrases that struck him. By the time Charlie showed at the department chair's door, waving distractedly at Castiel, he was irritated enough to swat at Dean's incorporeal face every few moments.

The meetings took only a few minutes each. Charlie emerged from hers euphoric, tears streaming down her smiling face. She was hugging the paperwork that detailed her full scholarship at the university for as long as it took to complete whatever degree she chose. Kevin slipped out the door with wide eyes and white knuckles, clutching his own folder and looking completely stunned. Jo, the last to appear, had screamed loudly enough for Castiel to hear it out in the waiting room. She screamed again once she'd left the office, jumped up and down twice, wiped at her eyes and then checked her fingers as if to test her emotional state. Castiel couldn't help but savor the reactions; he'd dreamed of doing this for as long as he'd been teaching but could never have gotten the money together on his salary.

Just as Jo left, Castiel heard Dean chuckle next to him. He'd almost forgotten the djinni was there, distracted as he was by his students, but there Dean was. Fighting a smile.

In the car on the way back to his house, he found himself stuck on what he knew about Dean. Thirty-two, ten years ago. They'd been part of the same generation, had been in grade school at the same time. Odds were good that most of the people he knew were still alive- except, of course, for the poor bastard he'd put a hit on. Castiel wondered if he'd come across any of them since.

It started snowing halfway through the drive, big fat flakes that Dean stuck his hand through the window for as if confirming that they still wouldn't melt on his skin.

* * *

Dean yawned and watched Castiel hang the last few ornaments. He'd been watching the whole process from inside the tree itself, singing off-key Christmas carols, putting an elbow or knee through the branch Castiel would be aiming for and forcing him to hang the ornaments blind. He was learning very quickly that Dean got bored easily and that his favorite pastime was being a pain in the ass.

"Cute," Dean said, stepping out to the middle of Castiel's living room to admire the tree. "So did you buy  _all_ your decorations from Dumbledore's estate sale, or are some of these handmade?"

Castiel ignored him. Failed tangible charms made fantastic Christmas ornaments, given that a great many of the materials involved were shiny and brightly colored, and he thought it made the tree homey. Eccentric, maybe, but lovable.

"You haven't requested anything in three days," Dean said, after a lengthy pause.

"I like to be deliberate," Castiel replied, heading toward the kitchen with the vague notion of making hot chocolate.

Dean snorted as he followed. "Yeah, I've noticed. I see how long it takes you to get ready in the morning."

Castiel shrugged, pulling the ingredients from- well, from the counter where they'd been since he'd made hot chocolate last night.

"Try putting mint extract in it," Dean said from where he leaned on the sink.

Partially out of curiosity, partially because he still felt angry, Castiel looked over at Dean. "Is that how you used to make it?"

Castiel was right about the hurt on Dean's face. Dean was right about the mint.

* * *

Four nights later, Castiel woke up shouting in pain and finally gave in.

"It hurt more slowly this time," he said, still taking recovery breaths.

Dean, perched on his dresser and looking remarkably solid, shrugged.

"Thank you," Castiel said.

He waited for the djinni to meet his eyes before he lay back down to sleep.

* * *

The forest was unbelievable in the setting sun, everything swaths of blue and gold. Icicles broke off every surface Castiel's shoulders brushed against. He whispered an old, familiar spell under his breath, and a gentle wind shook the ice-coated branches overhead into a delicate clicking chorus. Dean, stepping easily through brush and trees, turned his face up and smiled at it. "Sorta wish I'd learned to do that," he said, tone deceptively breezy.

"You can do larger acts of magic now," Castiel pointed out. He was half-sure Dean had something to do with the freak ice storm last night, which was _massive_ power, after Castiel mentioned that he used to love walking through the woods when everything was glazed like that.

Dean flipped up his coat collar, hunched his shoulders, as if he could actually feel the cold. "I guess. It's just not the same." He grabbed pointlessly at a tree branch, fingers falling through the wood as if it were the tree and not Dean that had no substance. "A lot of things aren't."

Castiel listened to a few of his footsteps, boots swish-squeaking through the snow. He had always been bad with distractions, so he went with the most honest one. "I know what I want my next request to be, but it might take a while."

"I guess I'll see what I can do," Dean replied, a half-smile pulling at his lips.

* * *

"This is what I really used to come out here for," Castiel said. He wasn't sure at what point it had become commonplace for him to tell Dean stories, but it had happened regardless. Maybe he was too isolated, now that he'd had one last coffee run or lunch break with everyone he wanted to say goodbye to. Not everyone, but close enough. _  
_

Dean was propped up on his elbows, legs extended onto the snowy roof in front of him, green eyes tracking around the night sky. As Castiel exhaled clouds into the air, it struck him that Dean's chest rose and fell despite the fact that he didn't need to breathe.

He waved a hand in front of the djinni's face. "No, you have to lie back to do it right. Like this. Easier on your neck."

"Don't think I can hurt my neck at this point, Cas," he said, but he lay down anyway.

The sky out here was unstained, spectacular, studded in every possible place with stars. Even in the dark in-between spaces, it didn't dare go black- instead, the cover was deepest royal blue. When they had all come out for the holidays or the summer, he had fallen asleep under it too many times to count. He hadn't understood until later why it was that they always seemed to be here when he was most upset and in need of it. Gabriel, the eldest by far, would swoop in as their parents' voices got too loud, and he would declare a sibling trip to the cabin. Michael would disappear a day or two before they would go home, then come back just in time to drive them back down to a house that was a little cleaner than before, with maybe a few pieces of new furniture. His parents would not be there, but they would show before bedtime. Clockwork.

"The stars are too- complicated, too much, to memorize," Castiel said aloud. "I think that's why I like them."

"But they're reliable," Dean said. "You can see them as many times as you want, and you won't memorize them, but you know they'll keep circling back as many times as you want to look."

Castiel turned his head to look at the djinni, surprised to be understood.

The stars were as calming as they'd always been. Underneath them, he felt his hands and feet turn cold, and the backs of his legs and his ribcage where they pressed into the snow. "What is it like?" he asked. "Dying."

Dean made a small sound in the back of his throat; maybe a laugh, maybe a whimper. "You know, for all the times I've seen it happen, I don't know."

The guilt was sudden and immediate; whatever enjoyment Castiel used to get out of salting Dean's wounds was gone. He hadn't meant to ask it like that. He wanted to reach over, to ground Dean, but he couldn't. "Do you know why you give four comforts, Dean?" he started, in a low, cautious voice.

"I sure don't," Dean replied, face schooled back into stoicism.

"In the field, we tend to call it continued karmic balance. There are records of djinn that cause pain to their victims before death. There are others that simply kill without coddling or torturing the victim at all. A few will grant wishes, to use the old terms, but the number and potency of these granting powers vary."

He glanced over. Dean was still looking up.

"And it's not by choice of the djinn, necessarily. Case studies reported that the spirit was forced to follow rules, as it were. That was a mystery for a while, since at no point in the binding process does a witch set any rules for his or her djinn. They found the correlation in the human lives of bound souls. If a djinni's previous family and relations said that they had been cruel, the djinni would often cause pain to its victims. If they led a good life, did well by those that knew them, they granted comforts. It's inexact, and inherently subjective, but essentially your soul continues, after the process, to do things the way it did as a human. Nobody has been able to calculate a conversion rate or a scale of goodness; we don't know how much intent and action contribute, but positive impact in life imparts positive impact afterward."

Dean's eyes were closed now.

"Four comforts, at the intensity of what you've granted me, is almost unheard of. Only an unshakably noble soul could exert that much benevolent will when bound. I don't know how you remember yourself, but you, Dean Winchester, must have been a very good man."

Tear tracks shone on Dean's cheeks. He didn't make a sound or open his eyes, but he moved an incorporeal hand to cover Castiel's in thanks.

Castiel thought he could see the sky spinning as he lay there.

* * *

"Who was that?" Dean asked smugly, pretending he didn't know.

Castiel smiled as he hung up the phone. "That was Balthazar. He'll be here in a week."

"That's great!" Dean smiled back, the genuine, high-wattage kind.

Moving to the next room to grab his laptop, Castiel shouted behind him. "Music requests?"

"Led Zeppelin II!" Dean crowed. Surprise, surprise.

It was an album that sounded fantastic at high volume, Castiel would admit that much. He moved back into the kitchen to attend to his dinner, which due to his limited kitchen expertise amounted to unsuccessfully attempting to fold an omelet.

"That's just sad," Dean said over his shoulder, which never startled him anymore. "Man, if only I could hold things. I used to cook like  _hell,_ and in the good way."

That made sense to Castiel, for some reason. He glanced behind himself at the djinni, who was now in the middle of the kitchen invisible-microphoning it to the chorus of "Whola Lotta Love." It was oddly endearing.

"Get out of my kitchen and pick out a goddamn movie," Castiel pseudo-grumped, spinning so the frying pan went through Dean's torso.

"Choose the music  _and_ the movie? What's the special  _occasion?"_ Dean replied, sailing out toward the living room.

Castiel plated his disaster of an omelet impatiently. "If you're down to your senses of sight and sound, you might as well see and hear things you like."

The djinni was already back to belting, but grinned when Castiel entered the living room. "So where did we leave off in classic Star Trek last night?"

* * *

The entryway smelled like pine, the living room just slightly of fire, and the kitchen of everything from roast beef to sugar cookies to peppermint. Castiel walked through the way the rest of them would- tramp into the entryway, stomp the snow off your boots, look around at the wonder of lights and garland that was the front hallway; follow to the living room, greet everyone else, stand around a crackling fire until dinner was ready. Then through the kitchen and into the dining room, catching the scent of food before seeing it.

Dean watched him pace through the house with a fond smile. "C'mon," he said. "They're gonna love it. Everything will be fine."

He was probably right.

Castiel took one more lap.

Soon enough, there was a knock and the door opened to Anna. Castiel almost wept just at that, before she pulled Ruby and their gaggle of red-haired children inside and he was enveloped in hugs. Dean, who was standing just to the right of the front door, gave Castiel two thumbs up and a wink. Samandriel and his girlfriend Krissy came next, who threw her arms around his neck regardless of the fact that they'd met maybe once before.

There was a lull, then, and the first few relatives settled into conversation in the living room. Their voices rose above the snap of the fireplace, and Castiel felt his cheeks start to cramp with smiling. Dean grinned back at him as if he couldn't help it either.

Gabriel was next, and Kali. His big brother put his hands on Castiel's shoulders and looked at him appraisingly. "You look happy, Cassie," he said. Kali agreed, then pecked him on the cheek.

Hannah arrived at the same time James and Claire did, all three of them shining pink with happiness and cold. Claire punched him in the arm, but was smiling anyway. Michael swirled in, put-together as always, with a flurry of snowflakes and his husband, both of them looking remarkably dignified as Victor brushed the powder out of Michael's hair. Then, as if fired from a confetti cannon, Balthazar burst in. He kissed everyone on the temple, ruffled Michael's hair, and slipped twenties to each of Anna's kids.

The living room slowly filled, the hubbub of before rising to a roar. Even after years of separation, his family picked back up with each other like they'd just been waiting for someone to invite them- which, perhaps, they had been. Every time Castiel looked over, beaming, to Dean, the djinni was smiling right back. He was particularly beautiful in the Christmas-light glow, eyes twinkling like stars.

The last to arrive was his aunt Naomi, with her wife, her stepson, and his wife. He'd heard their names from Balth, but didn't remember until he saw Dean. The djinni was immobile, frozen, except for his lips silently mouthing  _Sam?_ That was right. Naomi, Mary, Sam, Jess. They were beautiful and warm, hugging Castiel and the rest of the family without hesitation, and Dean looked like he would have passed out if that was possible.

"All right, everyone!" Castiel called, fighting to keep worry out of his voice. They mostly quieted down and turned to look at him. "Go ahead and drop your coats on the couch, then go through those doors into the dining room. I'll be in in a few minutes and then we can eat!"

They cheered collectively, then began piling up their outdoor clothing. Castiel slipped out into the entryway, then into the bathroom, waiting for Dean to follow.

Sure enough, he stumbled through the wall a moment later.The djinni looked like his brain was gridlocked, face pale and eyes wild. If he'd had a beating heart, Castiel would have thought it was stuttering to a stop.

"Dean, what's going on?" Castiel asked urgently. "Who is Sam to you?"

"He's, um-" Dean started. He was moving from paralyzed to heartbroken at speed, eyes welling up and spilling over before the sentence was finished. "He's my little brother."

Castiel understood the lightning-struck look now. Sam, Dean's baby brother; Mary, Dean's mother. "Have you seen them at all in the ten years?"

"No," Dean replied, wiping the back of his hand under his eyes. "Not once." He forced a smile, shook his head; Castiel thought he could hear his heart cracking in half.

It was not the first time Castiel wished he could wrap his arms around Dean, offer some kind of reassurance, but it was the most fervent.

The tiny room fell silent. Sounds of chatter were audible from the dining room, and that seemed to fully bring Dean back to himself. "Go on," he said, wiping his eyes one more time, shaking his head like he was clearing his sinuses.

"What?"

"Go, Cas! You have a family out there to see. Go. I can be a big boy for the rest of the day." Dean looked pointedly at the bathroom door.

Castiel, still a bit dumbfounded, took a moment to process this. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, man, I'll just stand at the usual distance and observe. Not gonna try to communicate or something, swear to God. I just- I just want to see how they're doing."

"Will you be okay?" The urge to wrap Dean up and protect him was very much still active.

"Cross my heart, I will. Now  _go."_  

"Okay," Castiel said, opening the door reluctantly. "And Dean-"

The djinni met his gaze with red-rimmed eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

 

Gabriel clutched the mashed potatoes to his chest. "Just you try it, you bastard!" he shouted as Balthazar ducked under the table to try to retrieve them.

At the head of the table, between the two of them, Castiel was scrabbling for every bite and laughing more than he had in years.

Balthazar popped his head back out, tablecloth draped over his spiky hair like a wedding veil. "Ruby, why aren't you helping me? I'm the  _reason_ you have that lovely wife and all those ridiculous children!"

Closer to the other end of the table, Ruby collapsed in giggles, grabbing Anna's hand where it rested next to her plate. Balthazar stood up, roaring, and strutted somewhat aggressively towards them.

"Well then," Gabe said, placing the bowl of potatoes on the table between himself and Castiel. "How are you doing, Cassie?"

Castiel smiled. "I'm fantastic, actually. It's good to see you. It's good to see everyone."

He tutted, scooping a healthy serving of potatoes onto Castiel's plate. "You look great, kid, don't get me wrong. But you seem- distracted."

Eyes flicking involuntarily to Dean's watchful face, Castiel shrugged and pinched a bite off of his roll. "I suppose I am. It's been an interesting process, this holiday coming together."

"No shit," Gabriel said, mixing an unreal amount of gravy into his food. "Been forever, hasn't it?"

Sam was smiling, talking animatedly with Krissy, one arm around Jess as she told some anecdote or other to Michael. They looked blissfully happy. Castiel wondered if that made things better or worse- Dean, leaning against the wall opposite them, looked tired and teary but hadn't stopped smiling for a solid half-hour.

"I just can't believe that our parents' problems kept the rest of us separate for this long," Castiel said. "We went years hardly speaking to each other, but look at everyone now."

Gabriel looked at him thoughtfully, just as able to read Castiel now as he used to be when they were kids. "We were just used to it, Cassie. Even when we were ready to be back together again, we kept up the radio silence because everyone forgot that we didn't start it. If you start hating the rules, little bro," he said, stabbing a chunk of beef with his fork, "you gotta think about who's holding you to them."

Anna's youngest- Abby, if he remembered right- poked Castiel's arm to ask where the restroom was. He got up to walk her there, taking a last glance back at the scene. Light glinted off moving cutlery, shone from the string lights scattered around the room, gilded the faces of the family he hadn't seen in far too long and the family he'd only just met. Dean stood separate from it all- but seemed to belong in it anyway.

* * *

 

"Merry Christmas!" Hannah called with a wave before sliding into her car.

"Merry Christmas!" Castiel said back.

He closed the front door after the last of his family, feeling warm and sleepy and content.  _It's a Wonderful Life_ was still playing quietly in the living room, and just from where he was standing he could see a few abandoned scarves and gloves. He'd have to call around to find their owners later- that was something he could do now. Call his family.  _For a little while,_ at least, a voice in his mind interjected.

There had been a few hours there where his death sentence seemed to have lifted. Even seeing Dean didn't make him think about it anymore. But, third comfort over, he was out of time. A week left, maybe.

The djinni entered from the kitchen, leaning in the doorway with a soft expression that Castiel had rarely seen on his face before. "You guys sure never run out of anything to talk about," he commented.

"Apparently not," Castiel said with a tight laugh. "What is it, eleven?"

Dean glanced back at the stove clock, then shifted to make room for Castiel to lean on the other side of the doorway. "Ten forty-five. Your Christmas dinner lasted six hours, man."

Castiel smiled. "Again, Dean, thank you for that."

"Well, your wish is my command."

They both laughed, looked away for a moment. Then, "How's Sam?"

Dean looked back up at that. "He's great, Cas," he said, a little hoarsely. "He went to Stanford. Law school. He works with a lot of kids, getting them into better situations. And Jess- well, she's fantastic. Computer science genius, funny, tough, perfect for him. And Mom's so happy. She's got this garden she always wanted. She's crazy in love with Naomi. They're- they're amazing."

When he talked about his family, Dean stopped trying to look stoic or unaffected. He loved them, deeply and completely. Even Castiel, who had never been great at reading people, could tell that much. That made his history that much more bewildering.

"Dean," Castiel started, not sure if he'd be able to finish the sentence. "Who was it that you wanted dead?"

The djinni's eyes snapped up to Castiel's in surprise. "I, uh- it was. It was my dad." His voice cracked.

"What happened?"

Dean released one of his bitter laughs and shook his head just slightly. "What didn't happen, man. He was angry, all the time. Drank like a fish and threw punches. He'd studied O.S. when he was in the army, and he wasn't afraid to use it. When we were kids, we'd go to school with bruises occasionally, but it was Mom who took most of it. I worked when I could, you know, tried to put together enough money to leave. But then Dad found one of Sam's acceptance letters and beat him half to death, and I just couldn't let anything else happen to them. So I made a deal. Occult boss named Crowley. Ten years working for him, then bound, in exchange for putting a hit on my dad." He half-shrugged, face full of shame.

Castiel felt shaky, like the floor he'd been standing on had shifted over two feet. The four comforts made sense, suddenly; if Dean was a person who loved and protected that fiercely, of course his soul wouldn't be able to take people to the other side without doing good for them first. He looked beautiful in the glow of the Christmas lights, warm and human and deserving, and Castiel hated,  _hated_ that this man would have to go back to granting wishes and then ordering death for as long as it took his soul to wear thin.

He stepped closer.

"Dean, I know my fourth."

It was crazy and stupid, but he had taken care of his students and let the stars set his soul to rest and had seen his loved ones together and happy and this was all he could have wanted after that.

"You know I can get you another week, Cas. You don't have to decide now."

"No, Dean, I know." Drawing it out was pointless.

Dean didn't bother to ask, just stared.

"I want to be able to kiss you."

If the djinni was surprised, it didn't show much. He swallowed, gaze flicking down Castiel's body, back up, around his face. When he spoke, he was hoarse again. "I might not be able to," he said.

"But will you try?" Castiel refused to break eye contact.

An unshakably noble soul.

Loving fiercely.

Dean stepped forward and kissed him.

Castiel had closed his eyes for a half-second, unable to watch this fail or succeed. But as soon as he felt Dean's lips on his, he reached forward, pulled him in closer by the front of his shirt. He was solid, real, as warm as Castiel had imagined and twice as satisfying. At first they kissed hesitantly, deliberately; Dean seemed to reassure himself with every movement of his lips and hands that this was possible and present. Then it was fiercer and deeper, Castiel running his hands over every part of Dean that he used to wish were solid- shoulders, waist, jaw, back. He traced every contour of Dean's lips and felt Dean's palm on the back of his neck like a brand.

It took a while for it to sink in, that time didn't seem to be running out. That this might stay. Dean pulled back, but just slightly, resting his nose against Castiel's cheek.

"Are you-" Castiel hardly knew how to start. "Is this permanent?"

He could feel Dean smile. "You wanted me human, Cas." He kissed him again, short and soft, hands cradling Castiel's face. "I guess I wanted me human, too."

Castiel wound his fingers through Dean's and pressed them to his lips, praying that he would never turn back.

He didn't.


End file.
